Ripples in Time
by Kicki
Summary: When Cole takes Phoebe on a much needed vacation in France, he learns that choices made in the past can have vast consequences on the future - and has to ask himself: if he had known his future then; would those choices have been any different?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note**  
This little story takes place after Charmed episode 4:3 "Enter the Demon". In case you have forgotten, this is loosely what it was about:

_Cole was pushing Phoebe to train very hard - Paige and Phoebe switched bodies by a potion accident and Phoebe didn't tell Cole but sneaked away instead. Paige, (in Phoebe's body) initially happy to get some training too, tells Cole off for treating Phoebe this way, and that he will push her away if he pushes her anymore. Cole realizes the switch and gets back at the girls but also admits that he has been a bit too zealous, promising Phoebe something nice when they are done helping a Chinese Zen-master and his daughter._

The described places in France exists - I've visited them myself - just moderated them a little to fit better into the story.

The story starts a couple of scenes from the end of the episode, so some narrating has been necessary. Speaking of editing; the edit/preview function has not exactly been co-operative when it's come to "Save Changes", so if this text is lacking space etc., I'm terribly sorry, but it's not because I didn't try.

**Chapter 1**

"Okay, I'm going to go," he announced and shrugged his jacket back in place. "Let you guys work this out. When… you're… _yourself _again…give me a call." Holding her eyes, he suddenly grabbed her by the butt and pulled her close in a roguish move.

"Oh…" Her body pressed against his, 'Paige' got the message loud and clear and returned his wolfish look with a sly smile.

"We'll have some 'fun'," he suggested in a voice that left very little room for mistaking his intentions, and shimmered away.

The rain was not letting up and Cole was beginning to get soaked where he stood, but he seemed quite unconcerned. The neon-lights of the city glimmered in the dark waters, and in the distance lightning bolts still flared.  
Once more on the cliff overlooking the Bay and San Francisco, he shook his head and laughed quietly to himself. _Talk about having someone under your skin._

Switching souls was a neat trick – usually reserved for demons with a lot more power than he had – but that was not what had baffled him the most. What really surprised him in all of this was the way he had been able to sense her so clearly even in another body. The only other being he knew he could sense like that was The Source.  
_It shouldn't be possible..._

Sensing others had always come easy to him, so the extreme ease with which he had been able to sense Phoebe from the very beginning, hadn't surprised him overly – and later on he had simply assumed it was because of his feelings for her, but this went beyond that.

It was more like a subconscious attachment had formed to her very soul, pointing him to her like a compass needle whether he tried to sense her or not. Hadn't Piper pointed out recently that it was uncanny how he always seemed to know instinctively where Phoebe was at all times? _Soulmates... in every sense of the word._

It was almost a little frightening. Then again, it was also very comforting – a knowledge to hold on to when self doubts would come back to assail him and Belthazor stirred in his mind. If something as good as Phoebe could take up residence inside him – in a place that only The Source had occupied before – then there must be hope for him.

Why it was so, was a question he didn't quite dare to ask. One thing was for sure, though; he did _not_ believe in coincidence.  
The way Phoebe and he had been drawn into one another's lives and hearts, denoted anything but the hand of Destiny having interfered in some way. However, while it remained unclear just to what end it would lead, he harbored his own misgivings. _Fate was never a friend of mine…_

Then again, maybe this was all for good; the salvation of the Charmed Ones so they could vanquish The Source. Cole decided not to brood on the subject. He was stuck on this road, whether it led to Heaven or Hell. And, as it so often was when Fate decided to butt in; you were never to know the whys and wherefores. All you could do was hang on for the ride and hope for the best. _Or go down fighting… I don't care about the reasons; I'm not letting you go now. Not ever. _And speaking of that; hadn't he promised himself to make things up to her? _I think I know just the thing!_

Down in the living room, the grandfather's clock struck two and in her bedroom, Phoebe sat up and turned the lights back on.  
Feeling a bit guilty for not having at least tried to earlier, she dialed the number to Cole's cell phone, but it was out of reach and she only got his call service. "Damn it, Cole," she muttered and flipped it off. "You know I hate not knowing where you are." With a sigh, she sank back against her pillows.

Once Paige and she had switched back, the initially accidental potion had also made it possible for Piper to switch bodies with the Zen-master so they could enter Limbo with his help and vanquish Yen-Lo. Afterward, they had gone to celebrate at P3. Her sisters hadn't had too much trouble convincing her to join them.  
"You deserve some fun," Paige had decided. "This is now officially girls' night out."

So she had gone along and she had a great time – and now she had a bad conscience for that too, and she felt bad for feeling like she had been sneaking away to have fun when Cole wasn't even around.  
She consoled herself with the fact that she had missed him at the club. Fun was only half as fun when he wasn't around to share it with her. He had this lovely, almost morbid sense of humor – never missing a beat – that always made her laugh."We haven't laughed much lately either," she sighed to herself. Not that the training wasn't important – she just wished Cole wouldn't be so dead serious about it.

On the other hand; if Cole hadn't made her do all those levitation exercises on the sandbag, she would have been no match for the Zen-master's disciple, and he had every reason to be cross with her. There he was, struggling so hard to tell her the truth – to tell her things at all, instead of hiding them as his demonic instincts told him to do – and she went ahead and lied to his face without blinking.

He had really gone out of his way to train her – something _she_ had coerced him to do in the first place – and when it got a little tougher than she had expected, she had fooled around and used Paige's mishap to escape.  
Piper had been right in scolding them so harshly before. She had been as bad as Paige when it came to concentrating and making priorities. What if The Source had come today, instead of Yen-Lo? People could have gotten killed because they hadn't taken it seriously. "I'll make it up to you, baby," she whispered to the dark room.

The unexpected signal from her cell phone made her jump and she all but dropped it before she could answer. "Hello?"  
_  
"Phoebe? Did I wake you?"_

"No, I… as a matter of fact I just tried to call you."  
_  
"Yeah, I saw that, that's why I called back. Are you okay?"_

"Yes, everything's back to normal again. Whatever _that_ is…"  
_  
"And Yen-Lo?"_

"We won't have anymore trouble from him."  
_  
"You're okay?"_

The reply came so quickly, Phoebe had to smile a little for his concern. "Thanks to you I am," she admitted. "Actually, I did just what you taught me to do: I improvised." She went on to tell him in elaborate detail how she had tricked Yen-Lo into thinking she was an easy prey by pretending to have twisted her ankle after a fall, capturing his soul with the dragon blade when he came up close.  
_  
"I'm glad to hear it wasn't all a waste of time,"_ Cole remarked, but a hint of pride shone through in his voice.

"I never said it was," Phoebe defended herself. "But it made me realize how important the training is," she relented in the next breath, "so I will definitely pay more attention to it."  
_  
"Good, then you won't mind if I_ _arrange something… special tomorrow_?"

"Okay, but we are still having a family picnic in the Botanical Gardens tomorrow. Piper wants to quiz Paige on herbs again."  
_  
"Don't worry, I'll find you."_

"Yeah, I guess you will… Wait, what do you mean "will"? Aren't you coming home tonight?"  
_  
"Eh, no, I have a few things to take care of and it will be some time, so… don't wait for me."_

"Okay... Goodnight, sweetie. See you tomorrow then." She put the cell phone back on the nightstand, leaving it on in case he would call again. Then she almost called him herself because he hadn't told her where he was, but refrained on second thought. If Cole had wanted her to know, he would have told her. She could probably coax it out of him later anyway, but it didn't seem fair after what she had done today. So she let it be, although it was slightly annoying to have a boyfriend who could find you anywhere, while he himself could disappear without a trace. Then again, it was part of that 'safe' part with Cole, and she wondered if she had been stuck in Limbo; would he have found her?

In another part of the world a half-demon was sitting on a stony beach, watching the sea heave calmly, and wondering much the same thing. _I know I wouldn't stop looking until I did._

Having stopped by the Manor for a quick shower and change of clothes, he shimmered in by the some bushes about thirty feet from the Halliwell picnic.  
Saturday had come with warming sunshine that dried up last night's rain quickly and made the entire Golden Gate Park look lush and green. Phoebe was sitting on a blanket with Leo and her two sisters, and seemed engaged in some kind of friendly squabble with Paige when he approached.

"Well, here comes your personal trainer from Hell," he heard Leo comment on his appearance.

"Literally," Piper added with a pointed look, but it was in a good-natured way and he decided not to let it get to him, because Phoebe was already on her feet and coming toward him.

She was wearing a long, white skirt and a low-cut top, horizontally striped with thick ribbons in blue and white. Her long hair was bundled up in two tight buns at the back of her head, held in place with pins decorated with small, white flowers; but all that faded away from his conscious mind as she smiled and held out her arms to give him a hug.

_  
Phoebe…_Just as they met up, he rained back and stopped her. "Wait!"  
Half expecting a bounty hunter to attack, she came to an uncertain stop, his guarded voice puzzling her. Then he leaned forward a little to give her a closer look and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Who are you?"

His jibe hitting home, Phoebe squinted indignantly at him at first, but then she decided to give him the evidence she full well knew he was fishing for. Quickly, she reached up to clasp her hands to his face and pressed her lips onto his.

His intention to pretend he was unaffected went right out the window. Letting her pull him down, Cole closed his eyes and simply leaned into it. Even if he hadn't known it was her the moment he set eyes on her, he would have felt it in her kiss.

He had kissed hundreds of women, but whenever _she_ kissed him, she released something very deep inside him; something that washed over him and drowned out the resident evil, and he reveled in that feeling as much as in any bodily pleasure she gave him.

It was the cooling balm on his burnt soul. It was a ray of light in the darkness of his mind, and above all it gave him the strength he needed to fight back the part of him that was Belthazor._I need your love like the tide needs the moon._

And maybe, he mused, that was why he instinctively had tried so hard to avoid kissing her that first time a year ago. For was it not so that a kiss of True Love could break almost any enchantment or evil spell? Evil could not withstand it, and so Phoebe had brought him completely under her charm. There was no escaping as long as she willed it so – and he prayed that she would never let go.

However, that might take some effort from his side as well – as Paige so clearly reminded him yesterday.  
Eyes closed, immersed as he was in the kiss, he felt her soft palms slide off his cheeks in a slow caress as she fell back onto her heels, giving him one more kiss before she let go completely.  
Dimly remembering that he was trying to tease her here, his half involuntary reaction gave extra edge to his verdict as he breathed: "Oh, I know… Paige…"

"Uh!" Pretending to be offended, Phoebe slapped him lightly on the chest, but she was unable to keep a straight face and as he turned his glittering, sea-green eyes on her and laughed, so did she.

Over on the blanket, eyes were rolled and slanted smiles displayed over their unabashed infatuation.

"So," Phoebe said, collecting herself, "what's on our training schedule for today? Light-sabers?"  
_  
Very funny. Do I remind you of Darth Vader? _"Actually," he began, hoping she would accept his effort to remedy his erroneous ways as her boyfriend. "I was thinking we could have a… private picnic of our own."

His look was hopeful, suggestive even, and Phoebe warmed up to that proposition at once, but then she fell back into a more uncertain attitude. "But what about training?" she asked, a worried frown creasing her brow as she nervously fiddled with his sweater. "I have to be ready for The Source."  
_  
Yeah, well… about that… _"I know, but not right now." _Let's keep him out of it for today, shall we? _Waving her concerns away, he put his right arm around her waist and pulled her along, away from the others. "Right now, I was thinking I could take you to this great little picnic spot in…south of France?" _How does that sound?_

Pleasantly surprised – not to say thrilled – Phoebe faltered in her step. Raising her eyes to his, she was elated to see that he was completely in earnest. "Really?" she asked, exhilaration beginning to bubble in her.

"Really," he assured her, rejoicing in the expectant happiness he saw in her face. Coming up in front of her, he held out his left hand in invitation and when he felt her hand in his, he brought it to rest above his heart to hold her as close as he could. Then he bent down to kiss her and as she leaned into it, he triggered the shimmer that would take them all the way to France.

"Oh, Cole…" Breathless, Phoebe inhaled deeply and looked out over the astounding view. "It's beautiful!"

Shaded by a few trees, the meadow sloped down toward a wild-looking ravine where a river fought its way between limestone and branches. Behind them, the Alps rose against the blue sky and in front of them a maze of deep gorges and steep cliffs unfurled. On several of them she could see tiny villages clinging to the steep sides.  
"Where are we?"

"Provence." Cole smiled softly. "We're a couple of miles north of the coast; more precisely between La Colle du Vence and Gréollière. I thought we could go down to Cannes later when we get tired of the view."

Phoebe's eyes glittered with happiness. "I'd love that. Although, I don't think I could ever get tired of this." She sighed and leaned back against him. "How did you find this place?"

"I've been around," he said blandly and gestured at one of the trees, causing a picnic basket to appear beneath it, complete with a blanket to sit on.

Phoebe raised her eyebrows and slipped out of his arms. "Mm, what do we have here?"  
The basket turned out to contain fresh baguettes, sun-dried tomatoes, several different kinds of creamy cheese and a bottle of rosé from a local vineyard.  
With a happy laugh, Phoebe began to unpack it while Cole opened the bottle. Soon they were enjoying a very nice meal in the afternoon sun, with no one but a few birds to disturb them.

"This is absolutely fantastic," Phoebe sighed. Cole had kicked off his shoes and socks, and was sitting with his back against the tree trunk letting her use him as a pillow. "How did you fix all this?"

The hand fingering her hair faltered for half a second. "I was afraid you would ask that."

"Cole…"

He laughed at her look. "Don't worry! Everything is bought and paid for. I still have a few stashes the Bounty hunters haven't found."

"Stashes?" Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"A long time ago I began to put a few things aside; mostly jewelry and precious stones, and small but valuable antiquities. Demons don't usually hoard earthly goods – they don't have any real need for them – but I figured there might be a time when spare resources would come in handy." Giving her a shrewd look he added: "I don't think I ever expected to use them on a picnic with a witch, though."

Phoebe squinted at him. "Do I want to know how you came by these 'valuables'?"

"Um…" He made a reluctant grimace. "Probably not."

"Okay, too much information already," she decided. "I don't want to hear about it."

"Who said I was going to tell you?" he teased and cut up the last piece of Camembert.

With a more thoughtful look, Phoebe took the offered slice from the tip of his knife. "About that," she said slowly. "About telling things… Yesterday… I should have said something and… I'm really sorry, Cole. I ask so much of you. I shouldn't have treated you like that."  
_  
_

_Phoebe…_

She held his look, trying to read the eyes that seemed to have gathered their color from the Mediterranean Sea.

"Phoebe…" He shook his head a little and took her hand in his. "When it comes to treating someone wrong, I have as much to apologize for. Paige was right about that. I was so wrapped up in keeping you alive, I forgot about letting you live."

"Well, at least you had a valid reason."

"No reason is valid enough if it makes you want to run away from me," he said gravely.

"Not that I would get very far, apparently," Phoebe observed, deciding that the conversation needed to be lightened up a bit. "You found me out soon enough. Seems I can't hide from you at all."

Cole pursed his lips. "Mm, you can always run," he drawled. "But you would only die tired."

"Oh, next time I won't run," she assured him. "Next time… I'll come _after_ you!" Like a tiger she launched herself at him, ending up on top. "Yeah, I definitely like the view from up here," she announced.

"It's not too bad from down here either." His hands came to rest on her waist, gently caressing the naked skin below the top – and then Phoebe squealed as he dug his fingers in where he knew she was the most ticklish.

Suddenly, she was no longer on top, but rather below and on her back, laughing and squirming to get away from his fingers. "Time out! Time out!" she gasped, writhing like a worm.

"What did I tell you about 'time out'?"

"It worked with Yen-Lo."

"I'm not Yen-Lo."

His face was very close, his eyes boring into her; intense, brimming with desire, hinting at the danger that lurked in the dark, deep beneath the sun-glittering surface.  
"No, you're not Yen-Lo," she agreed on a breath, her hands trailing his cheeks. "You are much more dangerous."  
Closing her eyes, Phoebe pulled him down over her, tilting her head to the side to allow him more access as he kissed her on the neck. His soft lips found their way across her throat to her face until he reached her lips and she turned to respond in like. "Cole Turner… you are very bad boy," she murmured as he kissed her throat line down to her chest while his hands were charting their own course across her anatomy.

"I know," he said, gently removing her top, letting his own sweater follow. "But you love me for it."

And that she did…


	2. Chapter 2

They spent the rest of the afternoon in Cannes, window shopping in the many, fancy and hilariously expensive boutiques and Phoebe found the Flower Market, and refused to leave before she had bought some fresh herbs for Piper. Afterwards they strolled down the beach alongside the Boulevard de la Croisette all the way to Port Pierre Canto to admire the many yachts moored there.  
Evening found them on the beach, watching the sun go down, sharing an orange Cole had deftly called to him from one of the many private mini-orchards in the area.

"This has been the greatest picnic ever," Phoebe sighed and pulled the coat he had lent her, closer around her shoulders. "I wish we didn't have to go home yet, but I've promised Piper to help out at the club tonight."

"You forget the difference in time between here and San Francisco." He got to his feet and extended a hand to her. "We still have time for dinner."

"Dinner?" Instantly, she lit up and let him pull her to her feet. "You certainly are full of surprises today. Where? Here?"

Giving her a secretive smile in response, he shimmered away with her to an old village about 10 miles up in the hills. The surroundings were quieter but full of chirping crickets rather than the constant buzz of traffic; the salt air of the sea exchanged for an almost overwhelming scent of lavender.

If it wasn't for the gaudy neon sign, the restaurant could have been just another of the many stone houses in the area, with citrus trees in the garden and wooden shutters at the windows. Once they entered, however, it became clear that the outside belied the inside. It wasn't exactly luxurious, but definitely cozy and comfortable; the high standard visible in the way the owners apparently paid attention to perfection and quality in every detail.  
_  
"Bon soir," _the headwaiter greeted them as they entered. _"Avez-vous une reservation?"_

"_Oui, bien sûr_," Cole answered at once, slipping into the language without thinking and earningan impressed glance from Phoebe. "Turner, _une table pour deux_,"

The waiter nodded and they were immediately shown to a table by the window, overlooking the valley. In the soft darkness of the Mediterranean evening, the lights below glimmered like glowworms.  
Cole ordered wing of ray for them, together with a white wine, and both food and drink were delicious.

Phoebe enjoyed herself immensely. "Is this what happens every time you become aware of your shortcomings?" she asked as the table was cleared and they waited for their dessert. "Because if it is, I think I will let Paige loose on you more often."

"Watch it, or I'll let you walk home."

"You would, wouldn't you?" She laughed a little. "You know, just this morning I was warning Paige how she will be fighting to keep magic out of her life in the future, but it does have some advantages."

Cole gave her a stare in mock surprise. "You mean you've found downsides?"

Phoebe grew serious. "Well, it seemed so great and fantastic when we started three years ago. All these cool powers, being able to save lives and make a difference; it's such a kick, but…"

As she lowered her eyes, he took her hand across the table. "But?"

"But it comes with a price, doesn't it? I don't think we ever realized the downsides of being the Charmed Ones until recently. I mean, if I had known all this before I read that spell in the Book of Shadows…"

"And if you _had_ known – what would you have chosen?"

Phoebe looked up at him again, almost a little misty. "I know what you mean," she whispered, "but… I can't help thinking that if I hadn't read the spell, Prue might have been alive now."

"You don't know that." He squeezed her hand. "Maybe it was her time anyway. Some things are just inevitable – it's the road we take to get there that makes the difference and Prue died trying to save the life of an innocent. Isn't that how she would have wanted it?"

A wistful smile crossed Phoebe's lips. "I suppose… I suppose there's a good reason that we don't get to know in advance what our choices will lead up to."

The door to the kitchen swung open to let out an old woman carrying their dessert. On reflex, he turned to reach out with his sensing power to scan her aura. It was just something he always did as a means of identification – and was perplexed to find that although he had never laid eyes on this person, he had definitely met her before.  
The memory of a much younger woman passed his inner eye; a woman he hadn't met in half a century. _Hélène?_

Phoebe looked up and found him staring at nothing with an odd look on his  
face. "Cole? Cole what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not me," he said under his breath. "But in a few seconds you will meet a woman who thinks she has."

"What?"

There was a clatter of plates and glassware as their dessert crashed to the floor.  
"_Mais, alors! Ce n'est pas possible_!" someone burst out behind her.

Startled, Phoebe turned around to see their elderly waitress, hands to her face, staring at them. Or more precisely, at her boyfriend who was pretending to be completely oblivious, but the strain around his eyes betrayed him. "Please tell me that's not a demon!" she hissed.

"It's not a demon," Cole assured her quietly. "Far from it, but she _is_ out of my past." _This could get awkward to say the least._

Alerted by the commotion; the headwaiter who had shown them in, turned up at the table. _"Mama!"_ he burst out at the sight of the mess and started to apologize at the same time as he ordered people about to get it cleaned up. The aghast woman was rapidly ushered into the kitchen, from where an upset but muffled discussion could be heard, and then the waiter appeared by their table again. _"Madame, monsieur, je suis deslolé,"_ he apologized and went on to offer them free desserts to make up for the inconvenience.  
Cole did his best to decline but the waiter insisted and to avoid further attention, he gave in.

"What was that all about?" Phoebe whispered.

Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, Cole rubbed at his face. "Is there any way I can get out of explaining this?"

"No. No way what so ever. What did you do to her?"

"Strange as it may seem, I didn't do anything to her. Her name is – or at least was – Hélène Duclaire, and we met briefly during World War II when she more or less saved my life."

"She did what?"

Before he could begin to tell Phoebe the story of Hélène, the door to the kitchen opened again and the embarrassed woman returned, carrying two of the most fantastically fruit-decorated, ice-cream desserts they had ever seen.  
After serving them, she remained hesitantly by the table, nervously wiping her hands on her apron. "_Madame, monsieur; excusez une vielle dame, mais..."_ she began and then a stream of words in French followed.

"I'm sorry," Phoebe said as the old woman stopped to catch her breath. "I don't understand a word…"

"Ah, Madame, you don't speak French?" the waitress said, shifting to a lightly broken English. "Please, forgive me! I heard your _fiancé_ speak so fluently, I just assumed…"

"That's perfectly okay," Phoebe assured her, somewhat baffled. "I didn't expect anyone to speak English."

"_Ah_, o_ui_… yes." She waved her hands. "I know it is not common for French people, especially my age, to speak anything but French, but I married an English pilot during the war and escaped with him to England."

"You did?" Phoebe was instantly intrigued. "That sounds very romantic."

The woman shook her head. "It was war; it was mostly frightening. But yes, there was romance too; a lot more than there is today, I think. You see, when there is war you try to have all the romance you can find. It's what keeps you alive. You young people," she gestured dismissively at them, "don't understand that. You are in such a hurry to go through life. You have no idea what it is like to live in constant fear. Fear of the next attack, fear of being exposed, fear of loosing your family and friends to the enemy."

"I guess… we don't…" Cole said; his expression completely unreadable.

"Ah, but I am talking and talking. You don't want to listen to an old woman rant about an old war, but you brought back the memories."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Phoebe said at once. "I didn't mean to…"

"_Non_, not you _ma petite_." The old woman gave her a sweet smile. "When I saw Monsieur here, I was a little shocked. He looks so much like a man I knew in _la_ _resistance_."

Phoebe's eyes bulged. "The resistance?" She turned to look at Cole again, but he kept his eyes trained on his dessert, the strangely blank look on his face constant. "He… I-I mean _you_ were in the resistance?"

"Oh yes. I was up in Normandy, helping English pilots out of the country. That's how I met my husband." A fond smile born out of memory crossed her wrinkled face. "But I am keeping you from your dessert. Please… _bon apetit._"

She made to leave, but Cole's sigh of relief stuck in his throat as Phoebe stopped her.  
"No, please! You must tell us about this other man."

The woman hesitated, but as Phoebe gestured for her to sit she placed her large body on the nearest chair. "There's not much to tell, really," she said. "We came in contact through the resistance. He was a courier and relayed information between different groups and the Englishmen. One night he was wounded. I found him and brought him home. He spent a week under my roof and one morning he was gone. I never saw him again."

"He must have made quite an impression on you," Phoebe surmised.

Sighing deeply, the woman shook her head and shrugged. "These things happened a lot during the war, I suppose, but him I never forgot. There was something about him, something…_extraordinaire_, _mysterieuese._"

"I can imagine…" Phoebe sent him half a glance.

The old woman turned to look at him too. "You look so much like him. Is your father from France by any chance?"

Cole's spoon clinked on the glassware as it pressed through a slice of canned peach with more force than necessary. "No," he answered truthfully, his smile slightly forced. "I'm afraid he was American."

"Ah, well…" she sighed. "It would have been too good to be true. I've always wondered why he went away without saying good-bye and what became of him."

"Maybe he thought it would be safer for you if he stayed away," Cole said, his eyes suddenly intent on the French woman across the table.

"Maybe…" She nodded. "He was a man who slept with danger." For a while she seemed lost in her memories, and then she climbed to her feet. "I must go back to my work, but it was very nice talking to you. _Madame… Monsieur_,_ au revoir et bon voyage._"

"_Madame_." Cole rose politely and took her hand. "Thank you," he said, holding her look. "Thank you for everything"

Hélène squinted a little at him, a puzzled frown creasing her wrinkled visage, but then she smiled. "Thank _you_, _Monsieur_. Please come back next time you are in France."

Phoebe started to rise as well, but as the woman took her hand she gasped and sank back in her chair.

"Phoebe, are you alright?" Cole's worried face took up her entire vision and she blinked again, trying to get her bearings.

"_Mademoiselle?_"

"Yeah… uh, just a dizzy spell. I'm sorry." She made an effort to give them a sheepish smile. "I just got up too quickly."

"Is there anything I can get you?" she offered. "A glass of water? Coffee?"

"No, thank you. I am fine… I'm… really."

"Maybe we could get the check, please," Cole said, his eyes not quite leaving Phoebe.

"Ah, _non, Monsieur._ This is on me."

"But we couldn't possibly…" Phoebe began, but the woman was adamant and they ended up leaving the restaurant without having paid anything for their meal.

"Well, that certainly was an experience," Phoebe remarked as they strolled down the road in the soft, Mediterranean evening.

"I'd say."

"_You_ were in the French resistance? I would have thought you'd be on the side of the Nazis during the war."

He glanced down at her, not quite meeting her inquisitive eyes. "Who says I wasn't?"

Phoebe scrounged up her nose. "How can you talk about it so lightly?"

Cole shrugged. "I've never pretended to have been anything but a demon in my past, Phoebe. It's not something I am very proud of anymore, but if I broke down every time I thought about it, or was reminded of it…"

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean it like that. But the _Nazis_… What they did, you'd think they were all demons."

"Then you will be surprised to learn how few demons there were in the Nazi headquarters," he told her matter-of-factly. "The fight between Good and Evil reaches far beyond mere ideologies. Politics is just a tool to be used for good or bad depending on whose hands it is in. The Underworld didn't support either side; we were just there to capitalize on the war as such. There's plenty of opportunity to turn good souls around in the trenches. The reason I was working as a resistance man was simply so I could betray and turn over any innocents or witches to the Gestapo, or the resistance. We accomplished a lot more that way."


	3. Chapter 3

It was 1942 and World War II was raging all across Europe. He had been stationed in Normandy, working inside the French resistance under the assumed identity of Luc Renard – whom he had killed a couple of months earlier – betraying both innocents and witches to the Gestapo.

Hélène Duclaire was no one special; a plain looking, ordinary woman and definitely not on his list – until she decided to hide English pilots while they waited for the boats to come in and take them home. He vaguely recalled having seduced her to bed with him on a number of occasions for no other reason than that she was catholic, but he wouldn't have given her life a second thought if it wasn't for the fact that she was worth more to him alive than dead. Eventually, he would have killed her anyway and thought no more of it – but Hélène had unwittingly found a loophole. Hélène Duclaire had saved his life.

Although a long time ago, and not touched upon since it happened, their brief encounter still stood out in his memory:  
Jean-Pierre Barricol of the resistance had no idea the Gestapo was waiting for them in the forest. As _Le Renard_, 'The fox', Cole had made a name of himself for knowing all the safe routes and escaping any pursuers. They trusted him with their secrets as well as their lives and every time he led a man or woman to his or her death, he thought what gullible idiots these humans were.

Jean-Pierre trusted him obliquely – maybe that was what caused his violent reaction when he realized that his 'friend' was a fifth columnist and traitor.  
The German soldier holding him didn't have a chance. Calling up unexpected strength, Jean-Pierre had not only fought free, but knocked the soldier out and snatched his automatic rifle. "Renard, you treacherous ba$tard!" he roared and started firing it at random in the dark.

The option to shimmer or throw energy balls was closed to him; the risk of exposing magic was simply too big with all the humans around. With no other choice left to him, Cole dove for cover, and called the gun of the already dead Gestapo officer to his hand. With eyes that could see pretty well in the dark, he aimed at the crazed Barricol, but just as he pulled the trigger a stray bullet hit him.  
It was odd how he didn't feel the actual hit, but rather the burning pain that exploded in his head a moment later, sending him into oblivion.

Next thing he became aware of was a splitting headache and that he was lying blindfolded on a lumpy mattress with a horse-smelling blanket thrown over his body.

Trying hard not to panic, he raised his hand to tear the blindfold from his eyes, but the mere effort to move his arm sent flashes of searing pain behind his eyes and he fell back with a moan.  
Immediately, a voice drifted up to him. "Easy, _Monsieur_, you are safe here," it whispered soothingly in French. It was light, definitely female, and he vaguely recognized it.

"Hélène?" His voice came out in a hoarse whisper, not unlike that of his demonic self and he had to make a mental check to make sure he was in his human form.

"Yes, it's me."

"What…" His head made another attempt at an early July 14:th celebration, and he had to start again. "What… happened?"

"You must have walked into an ambush. The Gestapo shot you and Monsieur Barricol. When the Germans missed a patrol in the morning, I became worried too and went looking. I found you in the forest only hours before the search party got there. Do you remember anything at all?"

"No…" he lied. _The bastard shot me…_

"Well, you are lucky to be alive. There were dead bodies all over."

"Jean-Pierre?"

"Not so lucky."

Something caught in her voice, telling him that Barricol could be written off the list. Satisfied with that, he changed the subject to his own predicament. "I… I can't see…"

"I covered your eyes to protect you from the light. Do you want me to remove it? The bullet only grazed your head, but you have a bad concussion."

His head already throbbing insanely, Cole thought the better of that. "No, leave it," he managed. Then something else hit him. "How long…?"

"Two days. You've been in and out of consciousness for two days after I got you here."

"_You_ did?"

Hélène laughed a quiet laugh. "You really don't remember, do you? I half dragged, half carried you while you insisted that you could go anywhere you wanted as soon as you were rested."  
_  
Oh, gods… what else did I say? _"I must've been delirious."

"You were. Look, I'm putting a glass of water here and I'm going to feed you some with a spoon so you don't have to sit up. Okay?"

"Sure…"

Cold metal touched his lips and clear water trickled between his lips. Instinctively, he began to raise his head to get more of the desired drops, but the moment he did that he realized why Hélène had wanted him to stay down.

His head began to swim like a merry-go-round on speed and the next moment his intestines were opting to get off the ride.  
"You knew…" he mumbled when he had finished gagging.

"You are not my first refugee with a concussion," Hélène replied as she busied herself with cleaning up after him.

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be ridiculous!" A soft, damp rag was wiped over his face and then the cold metal touched his lips again. "Now, try again – _without_ raising your head."

He was bed bound for another two days, but the blindfold had come off as soon as it was dark. The moment she had left him for the night he had tried – extremely carefully – to shimmer to the Underworld, but his head was too damaged to sustain any magic. It soon became quite clear that he was stuck in the mortals' plane until he was more sufficiently healed.

Of course, he could have been worse off; a lot worse off. If Hélène Duclaire hadn't found him, the Nazis might, and he doubted _they_ would have wiped his brow and fed him soup and small pieces of boiled hen to sustain him.

On the fifth day, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and managed to walk around a bit and even morph into Belthazor for a short while.  
On the sixth day, he had his first proper meal, and made the silent decision to leave in the near future.

That night he received an unannounced visitor who came in more secrecy than any resistance man or fighter pilot.  
The faint sense of another presence in the room alerted him and without changing his calm breathing, he opened his eyes, ready to call up an energy ball. Still, it wasn't quiet enough to fool this visitor.

"Belthazor? I know you are awake."

"Raynor?" Surprised and relieved, he sat up, but then suspicion grabbed him. "Why are you here?"

"Now, really Belthazor, you don't really think I would finish you off after all the work I've put in to make you what you are?"

"There are no absolutes."

"Indeed not." His mentor flashed a brief smile. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes, I plan to leave tomorrow night."

"Good, good… but your plans are now moved up. You will leave tonight."

"Why?"

"You are through with Mademoiselle Duclaire and the resistance. I am pulling you out of here."

"Because I was shot once?"

"No, on the contrary I have need of your talents elsewhere. Others can take over here."

"Okay. Just tell me what to do."

"I will – when you get back to the Brotherhood. Oh, and don't forget to clean up after yourself. I will stop by your little Florence Nightingale on the way out and..." Raynor flashed his teeth in a brief grin. "..._ensure _she decides to pay you a visit so you can say… '_farewell_' to her." Raynor smiled briefly again, and dematerialized, leaving Cole in the dark room to mull over that.

"So how come you didn't… kill her?" Phoebe asked as he finished telling the story.

He didn't answer at once. It was a question he had asked himself many times in the past.

Athame ready in his hand, he had waited for Hélène's arrival that night, but something had made him irresolute. In the end he had shimmered away before she reached the door to the concealed space where he had been hidden.

Cole looked out over the landscape, demonic eyesight giving him the sharpness to see through the dark. "I took some heat for that," he finally said. "But I felt that I owed her something for saving my life and it was my only way to repay her in kind."

"Are you telling me, Belthazor had a conscience?"

"No, not really. If I _had_ met her that night, or ever again after that… it would not have mattered. Don't mistake an extended courtesy for compassion."

Phoebe's look shifted a little and he almost regretted telling her, but he would not lie to her. He needed her to know who he was – it was the only way this could ever work. If she didn't trust him, if he lied to her and gave her reason to doubt his intention to stay good – then he would die.

_It will all die._

They walked in silence for a while and then Phoebe said: "When I touched that woman –Hélène – I had a premonition."

Cole's brow knitted in a frown of immediate concern. "I thought you did. Will she need your help as a Charmed One?"

"Eh, no, it was from her past and I'm beginning to think this one was for me."

"For you? What did you see?"

"I saw a man in a pilot's uniform. He was hugging her good-bye and then other men came up to pull him along to a boat."

"That stands to reason. Hélène helped a lot of pilots escape across the channel, but what has that got to do with you now?"

"Well, I was wondering that too, but then I remembered his nametag. It said: 'Lt. J.V. Bennet'."

"Bennet? Like…?"

"Dad, yes. It's a common enough name, but his father's name was Jonathan… Jonathan Victor Bennet. I remember now how dad mentioned once how he was helped by the French resistance to flee across the Channel toward the end of the war."  
She stopped and looked up at him and they shared a daunting sense of having the ripples of a choice made far back in time, catch up with them.  
_  
And what had my choice been if I had known that? _In a sudden urge to hold her close, he reached out and pulled the witch he loved more than life itself, into his embrace, and for a long while they just stood there and held each other.

On the plastered stonewalls tiny, gray lizards hunted for insects that were drawn to the flood-lightning. Overhead the occasional bat passed. They cared only for the decisions that kept them alive for the moment, and paid little attention to the couple that shimmered into the night and disappeared completely.  
There was a moment of silence as the crickets held still, in case the change in their surroundings meant that something dangerous would happen, but after a second they continued their endless chirping and the lizards kept running over the walls in the velvety Mediterranean night, as oblivious to the past as they were of the future.

**For a while**

**To love was all we could do**

**We were young and we knew**

**In our eyes we're alive**

**Deep inside we knew**

**Our love was true**

**For a while**

**We paid no mind to the past**

**We knew love would last**

**Every night, something right**

**Would invite us to begin the day**

Lyrics by Earth, Wind & Fire : After the love has gone


End file.
